Thursday, 17 May 2018

A premature Monday evening run occured in early April (how dare you? There were times when the Cardinal, OVH and yours truly fought tooth and claws over those Monday evening starting dates, whether they be one week earlier or later. Well, we were a bit younger then). TwoBob, assisted by Casting Couch welcomed his entire Home Hash Chapter which is the Berkshire Hash (a friendly bunch) to our very own Hash House, the Gösser Bierinsel in the Prater. Master MisterBaitor (or the other way round) was the CoHare of the evening and there must have been an easy crowd of 50+ English Hashers, added by approx 20 members of the World's Worst.

There is not much that one can do wrong with setting trails in the Prater and this run was no exception. Taking in the first signs of springtime, combined with a huge circle afterwards and darkness setting in still too early, the way to the Hash House afterwards was a short walking convoy.

Friday, 4 May 2018

No rules but traditions are the essence of the World's Worst. A very fine such tradition are the Easter Runs, with Ice Queen and Slush Puppie being the regular since ... I forgot when. Certainly for a very long time. Kaltenleutgeben, which is a sort of village on the southwestern edge of Vienna and a bit tricky to get to (long, narrow and winding roads) is offering its beauties only on second or third looks. Not far off from the Gasthaus Kaiserziegel, known to some for their old-fashioned cuisine (in the positive sense).

Anyhow, steepish road leading up to the carpark and hills all around were not a promise of a light flat jog ahead. Up the hills and straight into the area of the lovely Naturpark Föhrenberge (a really vast forested area) it was very much un up, spiked with the occasional Checkback and split trails (2Bob declared himself happy to run in a yankfree zone, at least temporarily) when some regular running track came up and - naturally - one remembers the sophisticated moments best. After too many fruitless checks for Easter Eggs consolation came in form of lovely Eierlikör (only several years old) but nonetheless inhaled by the pack of drunkards within the usual timespan of nanoseconds.

Gone country

Drum solo

History!

Not an eggliquor drinker

69 sips!

After this mild refreshment interval it was on back an downhill for a while, at the very end passing by the local stables. And on in towards another long circle where Ice Queen was presented with drinking mug No. 69!